“You should clear out whatever you can inside. The less clutter, the better. Just try to stage the place with the nicest pieces of furniture.”
Liza nodded. She’d heard that term before— staging a property—and knew there were professionals who came in and did that for a seller. She would have to read up on the Internet and figure it out herself.
“I’m going to start cleaning up today,” Liza promised. “How soon do you think you can begin showing it?”
“Not long. A day or so. It sounds as if you don’t want to wait until the paint job is done.”
“No, I don’t,” Liza said firmly. “I only have two weeks off from my job. I don’t even want to stay here that long.”
“We’ll go as fast as we can,” Fran promised. “If we don’t get any offers, I’ll keep showing it after you leave. Let’s figure out the asking price and any conditions you and your brother might have about the sale.”
“Conditions? What kind of conditions?”
Fran shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes in this situation, people want to make sure the building will still be run as an inn . . .”
“We don’t care. Someone might want to restore it to a private house. That’s what it was originally.”
“Yes, I know. And someone else might want to buy it just for the property. As a knockdown. Would you be comfortable with that scenario?”
A knockdown. Liza had never even considered that, but of course, it seemed so obvious. So definitely possible.
The wind off the water suddenly gusted up, and Fran grabbed on to her hat. Liza turned her back a moment, grateful for the chance to get her thoughts together.
“I’ll have to talk that over with my brother,” Liza said finally.
Peter’s answer was easy to predict. He needed the money from the sale of the inn immediately. His divorce had made a big dent in his finances, and his business had hit a slump in the ailing economy. She doubted that sentimental feelings would win out over his checkbook.
“Yes, talk it over. I’m sure this is very stressful for you both, right on top of losing your aunt.”
“Yes, it is,” Liza admitted.
Not to mention the other dramas going on in her life right now: the tournament of champions at the office and her divorce.
“Well, I hope to guide you through the process as painlessly as possible. With all the action going on out here and all the articles in the newspaper, this island is becoming a hot spot. I just sold a little cottage on the north side, near the new beachfront. There were so many offers, we had to have an auction,” Fran said proudly.
“Really?” That was encouraging. Would they need to have an auction for the inn? Liza wondered.
“If you have any questions at all, please feel free to call me, day or night.” Fran handed Liza a business card and a thick packet of information about Bowman Realty. “I’ll be speaking to you soon, once I come up with some numbers.”
The two women said good-bye, and Fran headed for her car.
Just as Fran’s car pulled out of the circular drive, Liza saw another car pull up and recognized Claire North behind the wheel. The battered dark green Jeep suited her. It was just the kind of car Liza expected her to drive. Sturdy and nondescript.
Claire parked and walked up to the inn, carrying a cloth tote filled with groceries. Liza stepped forward to greet her, feeling relieved that Claire had not been around to overhear the conversation with Fran. Especially the part about possibly knocking down the inn.
“That was Fran Tulley from Bowman Realty,” Liza explained. “She’s going to show the inn for us.”
“Yes, I recognized her. We go to the same church, Reverend Ben’s church,” she explained. “Everyone knows her husband, Tucker. He’s a police officer in Cape Light.”
Liza should have guessed. It was such a small town. There were not even six degrees of separation among the residents around here, more like one—or even zero. She couldn’t imagine living in